


Jager Shots and Awkward Poses

by cinderellasleftshoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Meet-Cute, NOLA, yoga!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderellasleftshoe/pseuds/cinderellasleftshoe
Summary: You get smashed, you get dirty, your buddy has a shitty night with his girl, and so you hit on an impossibly gorgeous guy who is just so fucking out of your league that it is sure to lead to epic rejection that will cheer up your bros. Or not?1st Challenge for DestielWritingWeekend in the Destiel NaNoWriMo FB Group. My *hearteyes* and smoochies to the lovelies of the group who write like demons, and kinda joke like them too. This fic is a response to Prompt #2. And writing it was sooper stupid fun :)*taps on the microphone* Did I do this right? Is this part of the right collection? *mutters* stupid jager shots... and i didn't even get an angel out of this deal ...





	1. Cas and the Very Good, So Great Morning Man

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno if anyone is interested, but I might have to write a Ch 2 from Dean's POV?

Castiel rose early on Saturday morning, the sun pouring through the French doors of his bedroom. He smelled the rich, dark roast from French Truck coffee brewing away. Mmmm. Once again, he thanked the moon above that his brother had given him such a thoughtful gift two birthdays ago. As the owner and senior instructor at his French Quarter yoga studio and day spa, Castiel had plenty of money to buy himself luxury items, but fancy things really weren’t his style. He liked his life uncomplicated and peaceful and his home bright and minimalistic. But getting out of bed to fresh coffee every morning, yes, he could make an exception for this one gorgeous decadence.

He rose, walked to the French doors and pulled them open, peering out at the Quarter below. Late night revelers staggered about in the early morning light, looking for a greasy New Orleans breakfast with Bloody Marys or Mimosas to stave off their hangovers for another day. He smiled. This is NOLA. The Big Easy. Where the party never stops and the doors are always open. The house that jazz built.

A cool, damp breeze blew in from the gulf, and cruise ships called their greetings from the port. Castiel wandered into his kitchen and filled a large mug with coffee and cream. Still wearing only his soft cotton sleep pants, Castiel stepped back out onto his bedroom balcony, leaning on the wrought iron widow’s walk. A few hoots and cheers from a group of Marines on the sidewalk below caused him to smile and raise his mug in salute. They waved back and shoved each other. They were in dark sunglasses and ballcaps, so he didn’t get a good look at their faces, but their BDU pants and tightly fitted t-shirts suggested fitness and youth. It was a good look.

Castiel swallowed back the rest of his coffee and ate a handful of marcona almonds. Then he pulled on his favorite running shorts and shoes, rubbed a bit of stick sunblock onto his nose and cheekbones, put on his sunglasses, set his earbuds in his ears, and he was down the three flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk heading toward the river at an easy ten-minute mile. Five miles out along the river and back, he stopped in a little grassy area on the riverbank just down from Jackson Square. It was still early for the street musicians and dancers, but some of the artists were set up with easels and tripods taking advantage of the golden hour light. Castiel smiled to find three college women and two women in their 30s waiting for him. The older women were in comfortably worn yoga pants and coffee shop tees, while the college women were in trendy lululemon gear. Tulane medical students, he remembered from the last time his little impromptu yoga class on the river front went to breakfast together afterwards.

Castiel had been running and cooling down with yoga on the river for three years. It was only in the last several months, this little group had begun to gather around him. They were shy at first, it started with one of the medical students, actually. Then she brought her girlfriend. They brought one of the older women who they met at a wine bar. Then she brought her friend who was a NOLA cop. And finally the third medical student had joined the group. She was a runner like Castiel, but she’d taken to cooling down with them at the end of her runs. It was nice, he thought. It’s how community works, this meeting of common people with common interests in common places.

They exchanged sweaty hugs and then got down to easy stretches before moving through the Bikram poses beginning with Half Moon, then Awkward, then Eagle, and then Standing Bow, and so on. It was while he was breathing through Standing Bow, that Castiel noticed the Marines were sitting on the grass nearby watching his little group. He thought they were the same Marines as the ones on the street below his place. They were drinking coffee from Café du Monde and leaning against each other. There were four of them, all at six feet or taller, with one who was clearly pushing 6’5”. They were gorgeous, especially the one who’d taken his sunglasses off. He had gingery-brown hair and high, delicate cheekbones. Castiel couldn’t see much detail of his face, but anyone could see standout bone structure and radiant good health from this distance. Of course the men were watching his little group. He was stretching in all manner of bendy ways with five beautiful, fit women. Now that he thought about it, Castiel was surprised they hadn’t drawn much of an audience before this day. He didn’t mind. If he minded people watching him, he wouldn’t be a yoga instructor, much less be moving into Balancing Stick and Standing Separate Leg Stretching in a public space. And if his impromptu class minded being watched, they wouldn’t be here either.

Castiel closed them out by returning to the easy standing and breathing poses. Then he stopped, smiled at each of them individually, and they greeted him with a “namaste,” which he returned. The Marines started applauding, mostly politely, but with raucous undertones, and the two tallest were obvious ribbing the “pretty one,” as Castiel had taken to calling the man in his head. Jody, the cop, turned and shoed the men good-naturedly, and the women hugged each other and went their separate ways calling greetings and “see you tomorrows” at him. Castiel bent in half to pick up the bottle of water he’d been carrying, and when he stood back up, the “pretty” Marine was standing about a foot off to his side. He was even prettier up close, with green eyes, charming freckles and lush pink lips. The pretty man stared into Castiel’s eyes and licked his upper lip, pulling it into his mouth. He let out a nervous breath, extended his hand and said, “hi, I’m Dean.”

Castiel stared a moment. There were five beautiful women walking away, and the other Marines had captured the attention of two of them, but this one was standing in Castiel’s space. What a surprising morning this was turning out to be. The pretty man smelled like stale cigarettes and jager, and there was what was almost surely a gumbo stain on his tee about where his navel would be. His hair stood on end, and this close, Castiel could see the clothes were less than fresh, given their softness, as if they’d been worn in the Big Easy’s 100% humidity for at least a day. Castiel smiled at the man; he was beautiful, but he was also enjoying his life, and Castiel was nothing if not a believer in embracing all that comes to you. “I’m Castiel,” he responded and took Dean’s hand, shaking it.

An incredibly attractive blush climbed up Dean’s cheekbones and into his hairline. "Uh, Castiel? Imma call you Cas, OK? On account of it suits you, and because I’m maybe still a bit drunk and my mouth wont stop running and you’re fucking hot. … Shit. Sorry. Um, sorry Cas, I keep swearing. Fuck.”

Castiel felt the laughter overtake him as it climbed from his belly and filled his heart. The other Marines were catcalling Dean for getting his ass laughed at, but Dean was still staring into Cas’ face, and both men were grinning ear to ear. “I think you’re fucking hot too, Dean,” Cas managed to pause his laughing long enough to get out. “Do you want to go for a coffee and some beignets?”

“Sounds great, Cas.”

“And then, maybe you can come back to my place, shower, clean up, we can do your laundry.”

Dean’s smiled widened. “You got a good shower?”

“I’ve got a fucking great shower,” Cas replied. “When do you have to report back?”

“Not until tomorrow night.”

“That might be just enough time to get you clean,” Cas murmured stepping into Dean’s space. Dean laughed low and dirty, “It’s gonna be close. But we can give it a try.”

Dean and Cas married four months later, in Jackson Square, with Benny, Sam, Garth, and Jody standing at their sides. Susan Spicer cooked and served their tiny bridal dinner in the courtyard at Bayona. Dessert was beignets and chicory coffee.

They lived happily every after.


	2. Beignets and Bae According to Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same day from Dean's perspective

Dean, Garth and Sam were on a three-day pass in New Orleans to get Benny engaged to Drea. ... but it hadn't gone well. Andrea, a planner, a calculator, a successful businesswoman, didn't like surprises. She especially didn't like something as serious as a lifetime commitment in the form of a surprise. AND, apparently, extra-especially not when said surprise included a diamond engagement ring that could have funded a downpayment on a starter home condo. Andrea was a pragmatic woman. The fact that the four men who showed up at her workplace to sweep her off her feet were already well on their way to drunk was barely a blip on her radar. She'd said no, and thrown them all out of her office.

So, to take Benny's mind off his utter and complete humiliation, his boys had taken him on the bar crawl to end all bar crawls. A blur of rounds of pool and rounds of jager shots in smoky bars with sorority girls and chanteuses alike. A few frat boys thrown in for variety. In the watery light of dawn, the boys were walking, well, stumbling, through the Quarter, laughing and looking for somewhere to get a greasy breakfast to soak up the alcohol and shame. When Dean looked up and saw the most gorgeous man. He was tall with skin glowing golden in the early morning light. He was bare chested and pajama pants hung dangerously low on his hips. He was sipping coffee and leaning on a balcony railing, and all Dean wanted in that moment, was to step up behind the man, wrap arms around his chest and press warm skin to warm skin.

His bros felt him staring, looked up, saw the man on the balcony and immediately set to ribbing Dean because, yeah, the boy was fine, but Dean had actual drool on his chin. He covered by saying he was thinking about grits and sausages. Yeah. But that guy up on the balcony who was way out of Dean's league was an inspiration. And a plan was forming in Dean's mind. A way to lift Benny's spirits. All Dean had to do was find a way to humiliate himself even worse than Drea had humiliated Benny. Take a couple of swings above his weight class, get himself shut down spectacularly, make Benny's weekend. Then, the four of them could go back to drinking in commiseration. Perfect.

They had breakfast at Ruby Slipper, and the Bloody Marys and Mimosas were enormous. But the best thing about NOLA, is you can get them to go. They finished up their huge plates of debris benedicts and bananas foster french toast, got another round of drinks to go, and then set out to walk some of it off. Down in a green space in front of Jackson Square, Dean saw him. Well, Sam saw him first, saw him stretching with the women in the green space before he started leading them through yoga poses. It was fascinating and, helpfully, Sam pointed him out to Benny, who gaped at the sexiness of the yoga pants on everyone in their little group, and who then ribbed Dean about his hard on for the "balcony boy with the sex hair." Yeah, he was way too fucking hot and way too fucking bendy for Dean's own good, and Dean knew he'd found his mark. 

The boys pulled up some grass and set about drinking their drinks and admiring the workout in front of them. All that good health and humidity-inspired sweat was a good look on anyone, but this group was really making it work. The ripple of muscle, the long lean line of ligament, the fluidity, the grace. Gods he was hot. They were wrapping this thing up. Go time.

Dean stepped into the gorgeous man's space as he was bending over to pick up a water bottle. He straightened and blue met green, Dean licked his lips, huffed out at breath, extended his hand and said the very original pickup line of, "hi, I'm Dean." The angel from the balcony kept staring and Dean felt every sip of herbal jager and every pull of cigarette and even the splash of gumbo on his shirt. He was a wreck. It was perfect. Here came the humiliating rejection. Dean braced for it, but instead the man extended his hand and said, "I'm Castiel." His fingers were warm and calloused and perfect in Dean's hand. 

Gods he was blushing. He could feel the bright red blush creeping across his face and into his hairline as he stammered out something, anything to say here, "Uh, Castiel? Imma call you Cas, OK? On account of it suits you, and because I’m maybe still a bit drunk and my mouth wont stop running and you’re fucking hot. … Shit. Sorry. Um, sorry Cas, I keep swearing. Fuck.” Cas blinked and then burst into honey warm, rich laughter.

 

 

 

Mayday! Mayday! Abort! Abort! All Dean's instincts were telling him, but no, he was gonna hang tough and take this one for his brothers in arms, for Benny. The other Marines were catcalling Dean for getting his ass laughed at, but Dean was still staring into Cas’ face, and both men were grinning ear to ear. “I think you’re fucking hot too, Dean,” Cas managed to pause his laughing long enough to get out. “Do you want to go for a coffee and some beignets?”

“Sounds great, Cas.”

“And then, maybe you can come back to my place, shower, clean up, we can do your laundry.”

Dean’s smiled widened. “You got a good shower?”

“I’ve got a fucking great shower,” Cas replied. “When do you have to report back?”

“Not until tomorrow night.”

“That might be just enough time to get you clean,” Cas murmured stepping into Dean’s space. Dean laughed low and dirty, “It’s gonna be close. But we can give it a try.”

Dean and Cas married four months later, in Jackson Square, with Benny, Sam, Garth, and Jody standing at their sides. Susan Spicer cooked and served their tiny bridal dinner in the courtyard at Bayona. Dessert was beignets and chicory coffee.

They lived happily every after.

 


	3. P R O L O G U E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I just couldn't let it go.

The early morning light filtered in through the semi-sheer, white linen curtains hanging over the French doors in Cas and Dean's loft in the Quarter, and Cas lay in bed waking slowly, warm and content, in the chilly break of dawn. Three years of marriage and little had changed between them. They were still happy, they were still horny, and, gods, they were still as profane as the day is fucking long. So, soul mates.

Dean had been deployed twice and was headed out again in a couple of months. Cas knew when he fell in love with a career soldier that morning, leaning over his balcony and watching Dean laugh and rough-house with his brother and their friends, that their lives would be lived in the still, in-between spaces. He didn't mind. They were both deeply independent creatures, and leaving always meant homecomings. The automatic coffee maker kicked on, and the rich scent of French Truck Le Grand Coq Rouge drifted in front the kitchen, even that was the same.

One thing though ... quietly, Cas plucked his phone from the nighttable and sent a quick text. Then he slid out from between the linens and slipped carefully into the kitchen, silent on two feet. In his sleep, Dean tugged the duvet up higher beneath his chin and settled. Cas smiled. His husband was truly adorable. Cas sipped his first cup of coffee while reading through the morning news on his tablet. Nothing good there. Then he checked his email and the yoga class registrations for the day. It was going to be a full house all day long, and when he'd pulled himself from the roster for the day, he was glad he'd added both of the graduate students who filled in; his regular instructors were going to need the extra hands. The screen on his phone flashed with a message, and he smiled.

Cas crept quietly to the front door, pulled it open and found Sam on the doorstep, a huge grin on his face and a large carrier in his hands. Sam's girlfriend, Jody, had her arms full of bags and there were more bags at their feet. Cas silently took the crate from Sam and motioned his partners in crime into the loft. They tiptoed in behind him as he sat the crate on the floor, removed the blanket covering it and pulled the excited, squirming, brindle Borzoi puppy from her carrier. Jody passed him a puppy treat and he rubbed the girl puppy's head and fed it to her. Jody handed him another treat and he showed it to her, then took off running across the loft to jump into the bed next to a groggy, but startled Dean.

Dean yelped, "wha...!?" as Cas' weight hit the bed, and then came abruptly awake as his arms were suddenly full of delighted, squirming girl puppy.

"Well, hello there!" Dean blurted in happy surprise as his new puppy slurped his face.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around here, "hi! hi! hi!' he said over and over as she hopped, wriggled, and wiggled showing her excitement to meet her new human.

"Happy birthday, Dean" Cas told him trying to get a kiss in edgewise, but Dean's new friend was not having it.

Dean honest-to-goddesses giggled. Sam and Jody bounced onto the bed laughing and yelling, "happy birthday, Dean!"

For his part, Dean was still grinning like an idiot with the adorable puppy nuzzling his face, "hey, hey" he told her trying to calm her with rubgs to her elongated nose.

"You got me a puppy, Cas?"

"Yep!" Sam yelled. Jody laughed and ruffled Sam's hair. Dean and Cas laughed along as Sam yelped in indignation.

The puppy answered Sam with her own yip, and then she body checked him, and he fell back against Jody across the foot of the bed, arms full of happy puppy.

"What's her name?" Dean asked, still grinning at the sight of everyone he loved tucked in around him.

"She has a long, registered name, but you should name her anything you like since she's yours."

"Imma call her Leia," and Dean kissed his husband, "thanks, Cas." 

And all three of them lived happily ever after.

\- the end -

**Author's Note:**

> This was way fun. I'm looking forward to more challenges. Thanks for being my fairy godmothers by reading my work ❤️


End file.
